A Hero and His Gentleman
by Whymsical
Summary: This will be a collection of short (less than 5,000 words) USUK one-shots. They'll be various AUs, both human and country, and I'm not sure how many of them there'll be. But come on in and enjoy!
1. Criminal

**A/N**: Hello there! This one-shot is a request that I did for someone on deviantArt. It's a criminal AU with England and 2P America (I thought he would be more suited for the role than 1P America.) Enjoy~!

* * *

Arthur Kirkland took yet another sip of tea as he stared at the file folder sitting on his desk. The twenty-five year old Englishman had been on the police force for over four years and was considered one of the best officers there. He had thought he's seen pretty much everything the city could throw at him, but this...this was something else entirely. Arthur read the name again.

Alfred F. Jones. Known as Al. Dark reddish-brown hair, red eyes. Sunglasses. 5' 10. 180 pounds of arrogance and evasiveness.

He had numerous charges of theft (usually auto or motorcycle) along with a few accounts of assault and battery (almost all of those were tied in with the names of other prominent criminals). He had first come to the attention of the police about six months ago, at the site of a particularly bloody and brutal beating, where a baseball bat full of rusty nails was found alongside the victim. The week after the incident, the bat was stolen right out of the evidence locker, with a note left in its place saying how it was going back to its owner. The man had been identified as Al Jones two and a half months ago, but he still evaded capture.

Arthur had been the officer placed in charge of that file, and by now the case had pretty much taken over his life. (At least he was single, so there was no one to complain or nag at him for the fact.) The Englishman had dropped all other cases and files he was working on to focus on Al Jones, but all of his efforts yielded fruitless results. Nine times Arthur had found Al's location and gone after him, and nine times the American had vanished like smoke.

The officer was left frustrated but with an even bigger conviction to catch the man. Now he was getting close to finding him again, and he'd sent some of the newer officers to check out the place of his suspicions.

"Officer Kirkland." The radio on his desk crackled to life. "Officer Kirkland, Jones has been spotted. We confirm your location. Copy."

Arthur started and tore his eyes from the papers. "I copy. Thank you. Withdraw to First Street and wait there."

Slipping the radio into its holder at his belt, Arthur closed the folder, loaded his gun, and strode purposefully from his office. It took him fifteen minutes to get to the building, an abandoned warehouse near the outskirts of town. Like the younger officers, he parked on First Street- a block away.

"You're certain he's there?" Arthur asked as he got out.

Officers Raivis and Eduard nodded. "His motorcycle's there, and the neighbours reported a figure looking like him walking around last night and early this morning." Eduard informed him.

"Looking like him?" Arthur raised an impressive eyebrow.

"Dark hair with a single strand sticking up, either dark brown or black bomber-type jacket, and a bat with what looked like nails stuck in it." Eduard read from the report in his hands.

Arthur nodded. "How many entrances?"

"Two, one main and one back."

"Right. I'm going in. One of you cover the front, the other the back. Don't actually go in unless I call."

"Arthur, are you sure you want to go in alone?"

The Englishman's eyes hardened. "I will catch him."

Eduard gave a brisk nod of his own and pulled Raivis away, vanishing around the corner. Arthur checked his gun and set off himself, in the opposite direction. He reached the entrance to the warehouse and slowed, his guard rising. After making sure the coast was clear, he entered the lot, staying by the fence and keeping his steps silent.

Sure enough, there was a big black and red motorcycle parked by one of the doors. Arthur had always thought it was stolen as well, but there were no theft reports for a motorcycle of that description. He shook a few strands of blond hair out of his eyes as he stepped ever closer, the dead grass crunching faintly beneath his boots. He made his way carefully to the door, which he managed to open soundlessly, and peered in.

There was nothing.

Literally nothing. The warehouse was completely empty on the inside. It was dark too, with only sparse areas of light where the sunlight shined through small windows near the roof. The little light that did get in illuminated an empty floor, without even any old boxes or crates to mark what the warehouse had once held

_This is where he's been?_ Arthur thought to himself. _I find that a little hard to believe. There's nothing here._

But the motorcycle was outside, which meant that Al would have to come back for it eventually. So Arthur found himself a hidden little alcove with a view of both the interior and exterior of the building and settled down to wait. He radioed to his back up that they could relax a bit (while still keeping a sharp eye out) because it might be a long wait and then proceeded to take his own advice.

Half an hour passed, and nothing happened.

A full hour, and still nothing moved.

Suddenly, Arthur felt a presence behind him, but before he could turn or even react everything went black. He woke sometime later and found himself sitting, tied to a chair in the middle of the warehouse. As the world blurred into focus, he stared confusedly at a pile of his police gear sitting on the ground in front of him. His gun was there, but his handcuffs were missing, a mystery soon solved when he tried to move and felt cool metal pressing against his wrists.

"Eeeeey, and he's awake!"

Arthur's eyes snapped to the left at the voice and settled on a relaxed figure lounging on another chair. Emerald green bored into deep red. "You."

Al grinned, showing off his missing tooth. "Me."

"What the bloody hell are you playing at?"

"Well I saw you sittin' there on my doorstep, so I thought I'd be polite and shit and invite ya in."

Arthur scowled at him. "Release me at one. You're under arrest."

"Can't do that, Artie. And 'sides, you're not really in much of a position to make demands, hmm?" The smile twisted into more of a smirk.

"How do you know my name?"

Al lifted a card from the pile and played idly with it. "This little baby, and the fact you tossed your work aside to focus on me." The smirk grew. "That was real sweet, Artie."

"Don't call me that." Arthur snapped. "What do you want with me?"

"I wanted to meetcha, since you're so taken with me." Al winked.

Arthur felt a blush creeping up onto his cheeks. "I am not, you're merely a nuisance!"

"If I was 'merely a nuisance'," Al mimicked Arthur's accent here. "Then ya wouldn't have ignored everyone else."

Arthur's scowl deepened and he fumed silently, mind racing. All of his weapons and defense items had been stripped from him, leaving him in nothing but his clothes. Al hadn't done anything to him yet, but there was no telling about the future and if Arthur was going to get out of the situation, he would have to be smart about it.

Al was content to sit and watch him, his face never changing.

"What do you want?" Arthur finally asked.

"Already told ya."

"Bullshit, there has to be something else."

"I already got what I wanted."

"...Pardon?"

Al got up and approached him, digging around in the pocket of his jacket. He withdrew a shard of a mirror from there. There was some blood around the edges, but other than that it still functioned well.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Arthur spotted a large and distinctive red mark high up on his neck. "_What?!_" he practically shrieked.

The American snickered.

"You little-" Arthur stopped speaking and thought for a moment. "Why?" he asked, his tone neutral, with just a hint of curiosity in it.

Al cocked his head to the side. "Why not? You were moanin' a bit there, so you must've enjoyed it a bit." he replied, almost smugly.

Arthur caught the smugness, and it pissed him off. He had to be calculating and careful though, so he didn't let it show. "I didn't even feel it." he said instead, more reproach than anger in his voice. "I was _out cold_ as you recall."

"Wha-" Al looked confused for a few moments, but then his red eyes widened and he grinned. "Sooooo?" he asked almost challengingly, eyes bright.

Arthur thought for a moment, weighing his options a final time in his mind. "Perhaps I'd like to feel it." he eventually said, lowering his voice. He tilted his chin down and looked up at Al from beneath his eyelashes, shifting his body slightly against the chair in an innocently hesitant yet lustfully wanting manner.

Al's eyes were still wide as his grin grew, and Arthur swore the American looked like an excited puppy in that moment. Then he composed himself and leaned forward hungrily.

The English officer had sparked an interest in him the moment Al had heard that he'd thrown away all other cases to focus on him. That event had also stirred a feeling of possessiveness in him, one that he had been closer and closer to giving in to. What had previously been a sort of a lifestyle now became a game, and all those chases had only intensified the feelings inside of him. This was the first time Al had the chance to capture Arthur, and he's allowed that possessiveness to take over.

And here Arthur was asking for more.

Al kissed him roughly first, crashing their lips together and forcing his tongue into the smaller man's mouth. His tongue piercing clinked lightly against Arthur's teeth as he explored his mouth. His weight pressed Arthur firmly into the chair, and while the blond squirmed slightly, he didn't try to throw Al off or anything.

Arthur's tongue flicked back in retaliation as he struggled a bit to get into a comfortable position. When that was achieved he focused back on the kiss. He wasn't particularly attracted to Al sexually or romantically but he admitted to himself that Al was good, and the dark-haired criminal's apparent attraction to him helped him in this moment.

After a few seconds more Al drew back and got to work on a new hickey, this one on the other side of Arthur's neck. The Englishman's breath was hot against his upper cheek, and it only served to turn him on more. Occasionally Arthur would let out a soft moan, and Al grinned in triumph at each one. Then Arthur moaned louder than usual, which served to mask the sound of breaking bones. Al heard the faint snap, but his pleasure-clouded mind dismissed it.

But Arthur was free seconds later. He couldn't do anything about the ropes binding his ankles, but he was out of the handcuffs and that was better than nothing. His broken hand stung and burned horribly, but he'd dealt with worse pain before so he ignored it.

Once he was satisfied with the new hickey, Al moved back to kiss him full on the mouth again. He was more gentle this time, using his tongue and teeth to tease Arthur's lower lip before actually going in. Arthur used the opportunity to make his move. He ever so slowly started bringing his arms up and around. Al noticed the movement after a few seconds, but by then Arthur was moving quickly to overbalance them and send them crashing to the floor. It took a bit of maneuvering inhibited by his still-bound legs, but he managed to somewhat straddle the American while pinning his arms down with his uninjured one.

"As I said before," Arthur said, slightly out of breath but quickly regaining it. "You're under arrest."

Al looked genuinely surprised for about three seconds, but then he was smirking again. "Yer feisty. S'hot." He easily broke Arthur's grip and flipped them around, so that he was straddling the Englishman. "It was a nice try, I'll give ya that." He grabbed both of Arthur's hands in a strong grip and raised them above the blond's head.

Arthur grunted slightly and his face screwed up in pain when his broken hand was put under pressure, but he refused to make a sound.

Al noticed immediately and mentally swore. He released the injured hand and caught it back by the forearm, well away from the broken parts, his face not changing the entire time. "What to do with you?" he murmured sardonically.

"Let me go." Arthur spat out through gritted teeth, thrashing around in earnest now.

"Mmm, nope. Can't do that." Al was disappointed that Arthur didn't feel anything back for him except the desire to catch him, but that would change. The American vowed that he'd win over Arthur's heart eventually.

But for now, he had to run. Their little meeting was over. He knocked the police officer out once more and tied him up in the chair again, this time using only rope and avoiding the broken hand. He'd examined the limb and wrapped it up in a shitty makeshift bandage prior to the tying, and now he stepped back to admire his work. He tossed the handcuffs onto the pile of Arthur's things, but took out the photo of the Englishman from his wallet and slipped it into his pocket. Planting a final, gentle kiss on Arthur's lips, he turned and walked away.

* * *

Arthur came to when someone shook his shoulder. At first he expected for it to be Al again, but it was Eduard's face that swam into view. The Englishman blinked and everything became even sharper. Eduard was saying something, but it took a few seconds for the sound to register.

"...rthur? Arthur? Are you hurt anywhere? What happened?"

"Jones." Arthur replied groggily. "Where's Jones?"

"Jones is gone, he escaped. But what did he do to you? Are you hurt anywhere?" While he was speaking, Eduard expertly undid the roped binding the green-eyes blond to the chair.

As soon as he was free Arthur staggered up, wincing as his hand was suddenly set in motion. He noticed the other officer's eyes widening at it, but he waved them off. "He had me handcuffed, but I got out of it."

"And he let you bind it?"

"No..." Arthur frowned the more he thought about it. The only reasonably explanation was that Al had wrapped it up for him, but why would he have done that? Then again, why had he left the hickeys in the first place?

"...Arthur?"

"Where is he?"

"He's gone. The motorcycle is gone too." Raivis noticed Arthur's eyes darkening in anger and hurried on with his explanation. "H-He was really quiet about it- we don't know exactly what happened, but he just burst through the side of the warehouse on his motorcycle." He pointed.

Arthur followed his gesture to where a previously boarded up window had been broken through. The new light shining through illuminated the interior, and the Englishman used the opportunity to glance around for some clues. He spotted a steel ladder attached to the wall on the opposite side and by the main door. Following the rungs up he could see a small platform between two of the roof beams- an ideal hiding spot. _No one ever looks up._ Arthur cursed softly to himself, but at least he knew where Al had been hiding.

There was nothing else to be found, so after a few more minutes the officers left- once Arthur gathered up all his equipment. Then, Eduard drove Arthur to the hospital to get his hand properly examined before dropping him off at the station. And Arthur was left once more at his desk, staring at Alfred F. Jones's record.

He reported that day's incident as well. Or all the chases, it had been the most humiliating. Not only had he been captured and bound with his own handcuffs, but he'd instigated a (passionate) kiss with a criminal. Luckily no one at the station either saw or commented on the hickeys. Not that he didn't _enjoy_ it, but... He shook his head to clear such thoughts. He wanted to catch Al and arrest him, not shag- err, socialize with him and lose him every encounter.

So Officer Arthur Kirkland took a sip of freshly brewed tea and, ignoring that tiny spark of warmth and doubt in his chest, set out to track down Al once more.

* * *

**A/N**: What did you think? If there's any mistakes, don't hesitate to let me know.


	2. War-Torn

**A/N**: This is another request. Prompt was end of WWII USUK with them as countries.

* * *

It was finally over.

After 2175 days of horror and pain, World War II had finally drawn to a close on all fronts. There were still soldiers to recall, treaties to sign, meetings to go to, and a million other things to take care of, but all America had on his mind was making sure England was all right.

He trotted purposefully through the streets of London, trying to ignore all of the damage around him and not thinking about the effects it would have on the smaller island nation's body. Luckily his feet knew the way to England's house, so he didn't have to look around that much.

His heart began to flutter faster as he approached the familiar door. After the war he was slightly thinner and more tired and more ragged, and the fighting hadn't even reached his shores that much. England, who'd been bombed almost constantly at one point during that horrible summer and autumn*... He had looked extremely worn down at the last meeting, and who knew if things had gotten worse between then and now. America had been focused on defeating Japan, but he hoped England was looking and feeling better.

Though he wanted to burst in and run straight to England, America thought he'd be polite for once and just knock. He did just that and then waited, his foot tapping a fast rhythm into the front steps.

Footsteps were heard, starting out faintly and then getting louder, before the door unlocked and England peered out. "America?"

America stared.

England was beyond thin. He looked to be just skin and bones. His uniform looked much too big for him, and dirt and sweat and blood had seemingly rubbed permanently into his skin, though there wasn't as much as a few weeks ago. At least his bandages were clean. Dark, prominent circles were etched under his eyes. But his eyes, England's emerald eyes were still alight with fire. There was a determined set to his jaw and a little frown on concentration between his dark fuzzy eyebrows.

"Hey England." America finally managed to get out, his voice cracking lightly at the beginning. "We won."

"So I've heard." England replied quickly, wryly. "Oh, where are my manners? Do come in." He moved away from the door.

Again, America was struck my how weakened the other nation looked. He knew though, that while England might look as if he were about to collapse, there was still a lot of fight left in him. "Thanks."

He tried to look around as discreetly as he could as England led the way to the sitting room. All of the room seemed darker somehow, and emptier. It could have been because some of England's possessions were missing, but it was also just a general _feeling_ of emptiness. England really had gotten hit much harder than him, and it was startlingly obvious.

"America." England's voice cut through his thoughts.

"H-Huh?" America jumped slightly. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you would like something to drink."

"O-Oh. Yeah, sure." America gave him a small smile of apology for zoning out.

England nodded and left, leaving America alone with his thoughts doe a few more minutes. Then he was back, placing a teacup down in front of the larger nation.

"Thanks, England." America raised the cup to his lips to take a sip when suddenly he froze. "England, where's your cup?"

England averted his eyes slightly and shifted on the couch. "I still have a slight shortage because of the rationing." he said lowly.

America gently placed the teacup down and slid it across the table to him.

"What are you doing?" England watched him with confusion in his eyes.

"You like tea more." America replied simply with a smile.

"But you're my guest. I can't accept that. It's your tea." England said stubbornly. He pushed the cup back over to America.

"But if you don't have enough, then _you_ should drink it." America moved the teacup across the table again. "I can get some water or coffee back at the embassy."

"You're my guest." England repeated. "It's for...you."

This time when England had shifted the teacup, America caught his hand with his own larger one and held it there. He ever so gently wrapped England's fingers around the outside of the cup and then squeezed, tightening their grip. "Take the tea, England. The hero prefers coffee anyway!" America said with a broad grin and a loud laugh. Both didn't seem like they belonged in the somber room, but the American ignored the fact.

England drew back with a faint blush and a 'tch', but he knew what America was trying to do and appreciated it. He took the teacup with him and sipped at the cooling liquid.

America grinned at him, but it was more relaxed and real this time. After a moment, it faded away. "How are you, England?"

"I'm fine." Came the automatic reply.

"I mean it."

England regarded him seriously. "The war was hard and exhausting, but I'll survive and recover. My people are strong."

"Keep calm and carry on, huh?"

"Even without seeing that poster, it seems they knew it.**" England allowed a small smile of pride to creep onto his face.

America's heart skipped a beat at the sight. He'd always loved England's smile, and thought that the elder nation didn't show it nearly enough. "Does it hurt anywhere?" he asked softly.

England hesitated, but then nodded. "A bit. Across my chest and sides, from the bombings. But they're healing quickly. A-America?"

America stood and walked over, sitting down next to him and gathering the smaller nation into his arms. England felt so frail, and America wanted to treat him very carefully, but he knew that if he voiced such thoughts or went overboard with that England would get mad and snap about not being 'made of glass'. He hugged him tightly, but not too tight. "I'm sorry." he murmured, nose buried in England's hair.

England leaned against him, letting out a soft sigh. "What for?"

This World War and the last had brought him and America closer together than almost any other time before. Many times in the latter part of the war the two of them had found themselves side by side, unsure if they'd make it. It was during one such occasion that America had kissed him. England was surprised, but he'd kissed back. A few more had followed, all of them chaste and short. The Brit wasn't exactly sure what to make of it, but he decided that he liked the warm feeling in his chest.

"Not coming sooner." America clung to him more tightly for a moment.

"We've gone over this before. Now stop that." England maneuvered his arms around so he could hug America back.

"M'still sorry."

England drew back and raised an eyebrow at him unamusedly.

America gave him a sheepish smile and leaned forward to peck him lightly on the lips. When the Brit didn't complain or move away, he kissed him again, longer and with more conviction.

"Mmm...'Merica." England mumbled against him. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." America drew back and ran a thumb across England's cheek. "I'm gonna do whatever I can to help you recover." he said with determination.

"America-"

"I will. You and anyone else who needs it***. But you especially. Hero's promise." America hugged him tighter again.

England felt warmth and relied flood through him. He shifted so he was sitting in America's lap. "Thank you..." His pride could handle a _little_ help.

"I will help." America repeated with a smile, and sealed the vow with a kiss.

* * *

**A/N**:

* Refers to the Battle of Britain, which was the German aerial campaign against Britain during the summer and fall of 1940.

** The famous 'Keep Calm and Carry On' poster, despite the production of it, it wasn't actually hung up anywhere or shown during the war. I'd assume England would have seen it though.

*** After WWII, America had a plan to economically help all of the European nations who needed it, provided that they had a Democracy as their government. This was called the Marshall Plan (and also the European Recovery Program ERP). America gave the most money to England. Interestingly enough, the Soviet Union also offered aid, but only if the nations _didn't_ have Democracy as their government system, or were part of the Soviet Union.


	3. Movie Night

**A/N**: This one was a request by one of my best friends. Theme was slippers.

* * *

"Pajama Movie Night!" The poster proclaimed.

Arthur glared at the bright paper as if his gaze could somehow make it disappear. It didn't. The blond Brit sighed and taped it up to the wall.

Francis, the vice-president and Lilli, the secretary, had been practically begging him for weeks to organize an event like this. Arthur had held out for a long time, but finally two weeks ago the treasurer Vash (who happened to be Lilli's brother) had had enough of the constant ruckus and switched from being neutral on the matter to his sister's side. The situation resolved itself quickly after that, and now Arthur was 'volunteering' to put up the advertisements for it.

It was early on Monday morning, so there weren't that many people in school, but a few of those present noticed the colourful paper and came closer for a look. Arthur tactfully stepped to the side and slipped away, but he could hear the beginnings of excited chatter spreading through the small crowd. By the end of the day the talk spread and what seemed like the whole school was in a mini-uproar.

"Everyone's excited for Wednesday." Francis sighed happily as he settled down in his chair.

Arthur glowered. "Don't make me regret this."

"Oh lighten up, Arthur!" Lilli said as she came in, Vash on her heels. "It'll be fun!"

The Brit switched his gaze to her, but immediately he softened. For one, Lilli was too sweet a girl to glare at, and also there was the slight issue of Vash...demonstrating his extensive weapons collection to him if he so looked at his sister in a wrong way.

"Yes, yes, you all can enjoy yourselves." Arthur said, returning his eyes to the papers on his desk.

"_Quoi_?" Francis's head shot up, and he stared at the other blond. "Oh _non_, Arthur, you are going as well. The president should be seen at such events. To represent the student council."

"And why can't _you_ represent the student council?" Arthur asked thinly.

"Arthur, come on. It'll be fun. We'll all be there, and you need to loosen up." Lilli broke in.

Francis suddenly got up and went over to him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "I hear Alfred was very excited about going."

Arthur pulled back from him, his cheeks pinking. "S-So? What do I care if he's excited?" he snapped, a scowl back on his face.

"It is obvious you have an attraction for him." Francis continued, not even bothering to whisper any more.

"Enough. Just count the votes for the movie choice." Arthur ordered. "We have to announce it tomorrow."

Francis sighed but moved away, opening the voting box that had been sitting in the lunch room all day and sifting through the scraps of paper there. Lilli moved to help him while Vash stepped over to Arthur's desk to discuss financial matters.

There was a choice of three movies: _The Avengers_, _The Suicide Shop_, and _The Road to El Dorado_. All day the students had the opportunity to vote for which movie they wanted. It took the two of them half an hour to tally up the votes, until finally Francis stood up.

"We're showing _The Road to El Dorado_." he announced.

Arthur glanced up in surprise. "Really? I was honestly expecting _Avengers_ to win."

Francis shrugged. He glanced at the time and gathered his things. "It is time for me to get going. _Au revior, mes amis_."

After he left, Vash and Lilli stayed for another fifteen minutes before leaving themselves. As usual, Arthur was left alone working until five. He was finalizing the plans for the blasted movie night. The next day was spent acquiring all of the necessary projecting and sound materials, while on Wednesday they set it all up.

"Blast it!" Arthur swore at one point.

"What is it?" Francis asked, looking up from fiddling with the projector.

"I forgot to bring my pajamas." Arthur muttered with a scowl, viciously stabbing a cable into its proper place in a speaker. "Seems I can't stay for the movie."

"Careful with that." Francis chided. "You still have half an hour until the movie starts. Vash, can you drive Arthur to get his stuff?"

The senior looked up and nodded. "Come on."

Arthur, who himself was a junior along with Francis, got up and followed, shooting the French student a glare as he went. And here he thought he'd be able to get out of the whole thing.

After getting the Brit's address, Vash drove them quickly and in silence there. "Ten minutes."

"Right." Arthur exited the car and walked quickly to his house. Once in his room he had to pause to consider his options. Usually he slept in unicorn and fairy patterned pajama pants, but there was no way in hell he'd ever let anyone see him in those.

Eventually he decided on green plaid pajama pants, his usual black _London Calling_ t-shirt, and a pair of fuzzy mint green slippers. Normally he wouldn't be caught dead in public in them, but he knew that the gymnasium floor could get very cold and the slippers were good at keeping warmth in. On the way out he grabbed a black blanket to spread out under him. There was some traffic due to an accident when they were driving back to the school, so they arrived just as the movie was starting.

* * *

Alfred wriggled in his spot, half out of discomfort and half because he wanted to get out of earshot of his friends. He was in a group of football players that kept up a steady stream of commentary about this girl's rack or that one's underwear and Alfred was getting sick of it. For one because he swung for the other team, but also it was just plain rude.

At one point when the opening credits had just started, his attention was pulled to the gymnasium door, which had opened. And who stepped through the door but Arthur Kirkland, the last person Alfred expected to be here for an event like this. The American had to admit, Arthur looked exceptionally cute tonight. The British boy looked around for a moment before finding a quiet spot off to the side.

Alfred debated internally with himself, and then managed to slip away from the group of footballers. He moved towards the mop of messy blond hair with purpose, planting a bright smile on his face as he got closer. "Hey there, Arthur. Didn't expect to see you here."

Arthur's head tilted up, wariness instantly flooding his eyes. "Didn't expect to be here." he replied in a similar tone to Alfred's. "What do you want?"

Alfred shrugged and glanced to the screen, and back to Arthur's eyes. Slight heat flooded his face and he hoped it was too dark in the room to notice. "Can I sit here?"

Arthur seemed surprised by the question, and his eyes narrowed. "Don't you want to sit by your friends?"

"Nah." Alfred glanced briefly back at them. "They're bein' stupid. Plus, you're all alone and I wanna sit with you."

The smaller boy hesitated but then moved to the side, leaving ample space on the blanket for Alfred.

Alfred's grin broadened and he resisted the urge to fist pump out of victory. He plopped down right next to him and sighed. "Hey!" he suddenly said, looking down at Arthur's feet. "Those are cute."

Arthur sputtered and turned red, drawing his legs in closer underneath him. "Shut up and just watch!"

"No, really!" Alfred reached out to poke one. "Oooh, it's soft! Really cute, Artie!" He laughed softly at the other's ruffled expression.

"Hmph." Arthur huffed and ignored him, resolutely staring at the movie screen.

Alfred gave the slippers a final pat and then relaxed, leaning back on his arms to watch. He hadn't seen the movie ever, and it soon caught his interest. He burst out in muffled laughter a few times and saw Arthur glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" he finally asked, turning fully to face him. "They're funny. And cute together."

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "You mean Tulio and Chel?" he asked carefully.

"No, silly, I mean Tulio and Miguel!" Alfred replied with a grin. He sniffed. "Chel's acting like a total cockblocker now."

"...Yeah, I guess." Arthur blinked, seemingly not understanding their conversation and the direction it was headed.

Alfred sighed. Why did people always assume footballers were narrow-minded asshole pricks? Well, some of his teammates admittedly were, but he wasn't. He decided to take a chance. "You know who else would be cute together?" He waited until Arthur was focused on him. "You and me."

For a moment there was no reaction, but then Arthur narrowed his eyes again. "Is this a joke, Jones?" he asked scathingly.

"No, no, I swear it's not!" Alfred hissed quietly, putting his hands up in the surrender position. "I really like you!"

Arthur stared back at him, unmoving. The green eyes were piercing, searching for any reason for doubt, but Alfred kept his own wide and honest. The silence between them stretched out for so long that the American was slowly starting to lose hope and regret his decision, but finally Arthur sighed softly.

"I've liked you for a while now..."

Alfred's eyes widened even more. "Really?!" he asked excitedly, scooting closer to him on the blanket.

"Y-Yes." Arthur seemed startled by the movement, but he quickly settled down, even moving a tiny bit closer himself.

"Would you wanna go out sometime? Give it a try an' stuff?"

Arthur nodded mutely.

Alfred smiled softly and moved closer still, hesitantly wrapping an arm around Arthur's shoulders. He was prepared for rejection, for his arm to be shaken off, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead Arthur curled closer to his side. Alfred used the opportunity to stroke the slippers again, this time with his foot, amazed to feel the soft texture even through his sock.

Arthur started chuckling. "S-Stop that." he managed to get out.

"Aww, fine." Alfred kept it up for a moment longer and then stopped. "They're cute though."

"So you've said before. Now sit back and watch the movie."

Alfred laughed and did as told, pulling Arthur flush against him in the process. For the rest of the movie they stayed like that, their laughter from the scenes reverberating between each other.

Unbeknownst to them, Francis was glancing at them occasionally and smiling to himself in satisfaction.

* * *

**A/N**: Francis would be a total matchmaker for them. Along with Elizaveta. XD


	4. Reunion

**A/N**: A request for someone on dA; truly the last one. I decided to go with Fem!England here for the kicks of it, and because I thought it would be fluffier. Enjoy~

* * *

"Alice is in the hospital."

Alfred blinked and glanced up at his mom from his video game. "Alice...?" he asked, confused. He wasn't friends with anyone named Alice.

"Kirkland. Remember, from when you were younger?" his mom prodded.

"_Oh_, right!" Alfred remembered now. When he was a little kid he'd been best friends with Alice Kirkland, the English girl across the street.

The Kirklands had moved to America when Alice was four, and she and Alfred had become friends immediately. They did everything together- went on adventures in the woods, got into trouble, played with Alfred's action figures and Alice's stuffed unicorns- they were even in the same kindergarten class, and because of their last names lay next to each other during nap time. That had continued through elementary school, where they always partnered together.

But then Alice had moved. Her father's job, which was the reason they came to America in the first place, caused them to have to move back. Alfred and Alice had been nine, and the American hadn't heard from her in the eight years since.

"What's that have to do with me?" Alfred asked. He didn't want to sound mean or anything, but the English girl really hadn't been a part of his life for the past few years.

His mother gave him A Look. "They moved back last week-"

"_What?!_"

"Let me finish. Alice fell while setting up the library and passed out. They admitted her in for observation, but I thought it would be nice for you to go visit her. She'll be going to your school starting Monday, after all."

Alfred put down his controller. "How do you know alla this?"

"I was just speaking with her mother. We think it would do her good to see a familiar face." There was something in the woman's expression that hinted at more to the story, but she didn't offer any more information.

"All right, I guess. When'll we go?"

"Now."

"What?! No, at least lemme finish this level!"

"Alfred, come on. You can finish later, and I told Rose we'd be there by five-thirty.

Alfred glanced at the time and groaned, then set his controller down, saved the game, and turned the console off. "Fine. Ugh, but I don't even know what she'll be like now."

"You'll just have to find out, won't you?"

"Don't blame me if things get awkward..." Alfred muttered, following her out to the car.

"Just be yourself, and everything will be fine."

They were almost to the hospital when Alfred was struck by a sudden thought. "Hey Mom?" He waited until she was looking at him. "Why didn't you tell me they moved back before?"

"Rose wanted to get settled in before letting anyone know. She called yesterday morning for the first time, but it slipped my mind."

"Oh. And why exactly _did_ they move back?"

"You'll have to ask Alice."

Rose was waiting for them in the hallway outside Alice's room. "Amelia, you came! And oh- Alfred, is that you? You've grown so much!"

Alfred heard Rose's voice with her lilting accent and it was as if they had never left. He grinned and hugged the woman, having to bend down a little bit because of how much taller he was now. "It's real nice to see you again, Ms. Kirkland."

"Call me Rose." the English woman insisted. "Go on in to see her. She'd been excited to see you again, despite her appearance."

"Sure." Alfred let Rose go and approached the door, his heartbeat speeding up a bit despite himself. He knocked, and without waiting for a reply, entered.

He really didn't know what he was expecting. The girl on the bed somewhat resembled the picture of Alice he had in his memory, but the features were sharper. Her blonde hair was longer and tied in a braid that hung down her shoulder with messy bangs and other, slightly shorter strands that hung around her face. The eyes and eyebrows were the same though- brilliant green, and fuzzier and darker than normal.

"Hey there." Alfred said, his voice hushed for some reason.

"Alfred?" Alice asked.

"Yeah."

"You got glasses."

Alfred instinctively reached out to touch the rims on his nose. "So did you." he replied, nodding at the pair resting on the bedside table.

"They're for reading. But err- hello. Forgot to do that earlier, silly me..." Alice's voice lowered until she was talking to herself, but then her eyes snapped back up to his face. "You look well."

"Thanks." Alfred offered a grin. "So do you."

"I'm in the _hospital_." Alice raised an eyebrow.

"I mean _besides_ that!" Alfred laughed nervously and fell silent. Damn. This was bad- it was already getting awkward and they were less than five minutes into their conversation! He had to step up his game. Grinning broadly again he marched over to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Alice blinked, moving back a bit. "What are you doing?"

"I wanna sit." Alfred shrugged. "So I heard you moved back like a week ago."

"Yes, we're down the street from your house now."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Alice seemed startled.

"Why did you move back?"

"Oh." Alice looked down and intertwined her fingers. "Mum and Dad got divorced. She wanted to come back here so she did with me and Liam."

Alfred reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine. It was a self-destructive relationship anyway." Alice slipped her hands from under his.

"Yeah..." Alfred moved his hand back, unsure of what to say now.

For the remainder of the time before Amelia stuck her head in, they sat in silence only occasionally broken by awkward attempts at small talk. Alfred really didn't know why he was having such a difficult time- this was _Alice_. But maybe that was the problem.

"Hey there guys!" Amelia opened the door and came in just as Alfred was about to ask about the weather for the third time.

Alfred jumped up. "Hi Mom!" he said, relief flooding through him. "Why don't you talk to Alice for a while?" He stood up and moved to the door. "Bye, Alice. Nice to see ya." Then he was gone.

"Good bye." Alice murmured to the closing door. "Thank you for coming."

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief when he got into the hallway. He didn't always catch on to the atmosphere in a room, but in that situation it had been hard to ignore the glaring awkwardness. Rose wasn't anywhere in sight, so he left the building and waited by the car, headphones plugged in and over his ears.

Amelia came out about fifteen minutes later, and they went home. The entire ride Amelia chatted about how wonderful it was that they moved back and how much Alice had grown and changed. Alfred nodded in the appropriate places, but overall he had an unsettled feeling in his stomach.

* * *

Alice started school that Monday. She ended up in three of Alfred's classes: English, History, and Physical Education. Alfred offered her the seat next to his to sit in which she took, grateful to have even a semi-familiar face nearby. The American tried to talk more with her, but he still didn't know how to approach her.

On the whole Alice seemed very reserved. She was very different than what Alfred remembered. At first there had been a buzz in the grade that a new British student was coming to their class, but Alice was generally unsociable and soon everyone forgot about her. She carried herself with a high and regal grace and became a quick favourite of many teachers.

But she wasn't fun.

"Hey Alice!" Alfred was once again trying to reach out to her. "Since practice is cancelled and me an' Kiku an' Gil still wanna play some, we're gonna go to my house and play in the backyard. You wanna come too?"

Based on his muscular build and height, many people would assume that Alfred played football, but in fact he was on the soccer team. He had admittedly been thinking about joining the football team, but his best friends Kiku and Gilbert had wanted to play soccer and he ended up going with them. The blond seemed to have a knack for international friends because Kiku was Japanese and Gilbert was from Germany.

Alice glanced out the window at the gathering storm clouds. "In the rain?"

"Yeah, that's the best time! Then we get dried off, pile under a whole bunch of blankets, and watch some movies!" Alfred replied enthusiastically.

The English girl looked down. "No thanks." She lightly brushed past him and walked away.

Alfred was crestfallen, but his moping was cut short by the arrival of his friends. They had fun kicking the ball around and practicing their skills- and per usual almost got sick afterwards- but all Alfred could think about was how badly he wanted Alice there as well. He felt a little disappointed in himself- his childhood best friend had come back and here they were, treating each other as utter strangers. Maybe he wasn't being persistent enough?

That had to be it. Alfred vowed to himself that he would try harder, and keep on trying until Alice was close to him again.

The next few weeks brought numerous attempts, some successful, and others utter failures. He tried everything from tutoring to help in class to project partners to sitting together at lunch to even just attempts at small talk. Asking for help got him the farthest. He also invited her over a few more times, but she always declined his offers.

Then they moved on to swimming in P.E. The school had an indoor swimming pool for the swim team and gym classes. Alfred really liked the swimming unit, but Alice looked apprehensive on the first day.

As almost anyone in school, Alice had her 'enemies'. People that disliked her for whatever reason- her looks, her grades, her attitude, whatever. It so happened that a few of those people were in the class.

They were standing around the poolside and the teacher was explaining the syllabus when there was a loud splash from the direction of the deep end. The first few seconds no one reacted, seemingly startled by the sudden noise. Then heads started to turn.

"Who what that?!" the teacher asked, anger visible on his face.

"It was Alice." one of the girls standing nearest the spot said.

Alfred froze. Alice. Memories stared flooding back to im. Alice was afraid of the water- she always had been, ever since she was little. Alice couldn't swim.

Tossing all other thoughts aside, Alfred dived in after her. She was sinking slowly to the bottom of the pool, eyes closed and barely moving. Alfred swam down and gathered her up bridal style before kicking off to the surface.

When they broke through Alice started coughing and gasping for air, leaning in closer to him. He made his way to a clear area of the edge and lifted her out onto the ground before climbing out himself. The other students immediately tried to all come closer to see, but Alfred kept them back while Alice recovered. He saw the teacher was about to say something, but he cut him off.

"I'll take her to the nurse." he quickly offered. "Y'know, just to make sure."

The teacher frowned slightly but nodded. "Fine. Come back for your stuff later." His look also said 'I need to speak with you about this later'.

Alfred nodded and scooped Alice up again, ignoring her faint protests that she could walk by herself. "Ya nearly drowned, Alice. Just relax."

Alice huffed but looked down, falling silent. Alfred glanced down at her in concern and shifter her more to one arm so he could grab his jacket on the way out.

The nurse received them with surprise. She gave both of them towels and some random dry clothes. Alfred finally set her down so they could dry and change. After that the nurse tried to dismiss Alfred since he was fine, but he convinced her to let him stay. Alice was ordered to rest for a while in one of the rooms so she could get over her minor shock, so Alfred just stayed with her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Yes. Thank you." Alice shivered slightly but smiled gratefully at him.

Alfred grinned back at her, happy that she finally smiled at him. Then, noticing her shivers, he covered her with his jacket. "Someone pushed you in, didn't they?"

Alice looked down. "Yes. It was one of the girls nearby, but I dunno which one exactly it was."

Alfred's eyes darkened in anger. "Those- Those-"

"Yeah, I know." Alice gave a halfhearted shrugged. "But what can you do?"

"You've got me, the hero, to protect ya!" Alfred said fiercely. "Plus you can tell Teach. I'm pretty sure right now he thinks you jumped it."

"But I _didn't_. I never would, you know I can't swim."

"Yeah, I know. So we'll just go talk to him when you're feelin' better and explain what happened. He'll believe us, he knows I don't lie."

"All right, sounds like a plan." Alice suddenly paused as a thought struck her. "You're still obsessed with superheroes?" she asked with a teasing smile.

Alfred blushed a bit. "Well not _obsessed_ maybe...but I still like 'em. And I'm a hero now too! I saved you, didn't I?" He puffed his cheeks and chest out proudly.

Alice laughed despite herself. "That you did."

"Hmm..." Alfred's expression turned mischievous. "What about you? Do you still like unicorns so much? How many toys you still got?"

The English girl reddened. "I- You- none! I'm no longer interested..." She withered slightly under Alfred's bright gaze. "One or two...or five..."

"Knew it!" Alfred laughed and couldn't resist hugging her. "I knew you were still my Alice under all that stuffiness!"

Alice went still. "Your...Alice?"

"Yeah. My best friend." Alfred pulled back a bit so he could look her in the eye. "Can we be friends again?"

"I..." Alice looked at him and had to avert her gaze. She suddenly threw her arms around his neck and hugged her tightly. "Yeah."

Alfred was surprised, but after a moment he hugged her back, smiling broadly. "That's great!" Her wet braid dampened his fresh shirt, but Alfred didn't mind- he'd just gotten his best friend back.

* * *

**A/N**: I'm just using Amelia and Rose for the names of the mothers because those are names commonly associated with the respective nations, and I didn't want to keep saying 'Alfred/Alice's mother' or 'the American/English woman' all fic long.

Also, I've noticed that in a lot of these reunion fics they always seem to go 'oh you came back' to 'you've changed so much' to 'drama!' to 'kissing and lovers' automatically. Why can't they just go back to being friends? Friends are good too (for now XD)


	5. Don't Judge Cats

Oh look, another USUK cat story. (Added bonus: Cameo from the Bad Touch Trio) (Yeah, I dunno about the name- I couldn't come up with anything better.) Enjoy!

* * *

"_Sacrebleu_, that has to be the ugliest cat I've ever seen in my life!" Francis proclaimed, staring with drunken frustration at the drenched orange and white Scottish Fold huddled up close by a dumpster.

He, Gilbert, Antonio, and a slightly unwilling Alfred had gone out for a few drinks and now they were going home. The Frenchman was close friends with the German and the Spaniard, and the American had tagged along for distraction. It had started raining during their drinking, and none of them had an umbrella.

"Oh _Gott,_ you're right!" Gilbert, the drunkest of the quartet, stumbled up to it and prodded it unceremoniously with his boot. Being so drunk, the nudge turned out harder than he intended.

The cat came to life with a yowl, and it huddled even closer to the dumpster. It was soaked through completely and its fur was matted.

Antonio snickered at it along with the other two, but Alfred stayed silent. The American's blue eyes were locked with the cat's impossibly green ones for a moment before the cat looked away and tried squeezing farther under the giant metal trash can.

"What do you think, Alfred? Can anything get anymore unawesome than that?" Gilbert asked.

"Uhh...no. Heh...guess not." Alfred muttered unenthusiastically. "I...I should probably be getting back home. G'night." He was the most sober of them, and putting his hands in his pockets, he turned and walked away.

He didn't go far, though. He rounded the nearest corner and waited there, surreptitiously watching. He saw Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio insult the cat for another couple of minutes. They prodded the cat a few more times, hard, before they finally got bored and walked off, singing drunkenly as the rain soaked them even more.

Once they were out of sight, Alfred slowly walked to the cat and crouched down before it. It hissed weakly and shrank away.

"Hey, hey, easy there dude. I'm not gonna hurt you." Alfred told it softly, hesitantly reaching out with a hand.

He received a scratch for his efforts.

"Ow- fuck!" Rainwater dripped down and mixed with the blood from the cut, but Alfred paid it no mind. The cat had jerked back at the sudden curse. "Shush, I already told you, you're fine with me! Don't do that again though, that fucking hurt." Great, he was talking to a cat now.

Said cat didn't look impressed.

Alfred decided to change tactics. He pulled on a bright smile and reached out to the cat again. "It's okay, it's okay." he murmured the entire time.

This time, the cat let him touch him, and eventually Alfred got the feline away from the dumpster. He hefted the cat up and zipped it up in his jacket so it was resting against his stomach and out of the rain.

Alfred's house wasn't too far away and he walked there quickly, head bowed against the downpour. When he was inside he made a beeline towards the bathroom and got the cat into the bathtub.

Turns out the cat really hated being bathed. It raised a terrible racket and it took Alfred almost an hour to wash off all the mud and get it dry. By the end of that hour, the American acquired a multitude of new scratches was thoroughly exhausted.

"You're quite the little spitfire, ain't ya?" He chuckled tiredly, and then sat up. "Spitfire! That'll be your name!"

Happy, he let the cat out of the bathroom and fed him some chicken- he'd discovered the cat was in fact male during the bath- and then went to take a quick shower.

Spitfire was in the middle of the bed when he walked into the bedroom. The cat looked much happier and was no longer trembling. His bright green eyes, unlike any other cat's eyes Alfred had seen before, watched the American unreadably, but it seemed like there was a bit more trust in them.

"Oi, I gotta fit on there too." Alfred lightly moved him off to the side and climbed in. "I'll take ya to the vet tomorrow, kay?"

Spitfire bristled at that, and Alfred could swear it understood him. But then, after the man got comfortably settled down, he climbed up onto his chest and began purring. It started off as a rough, broken rhythm, almost as if the cat hadn't done so in a long time, but eventually it evened out.

Right then, Alfred decided he was going to keep the cat. Screw Francis, the Scottish Fold was cute in its own way, and Alfred was already attached to it. Besides, he was getting kind of lonely, and what better companion than a cat?

"Don't worry, it's just for a check up. You're stayin' here." he said, scratching him behind the ear. He fell asleep to the sound of purring.

When he woke up the next morning, Spitfire was curled up against his side. He scratched the cat behind the ear to wake him up and then dressed.

The Scottish Fold was washing himself in the kitchen by the time Alfred came down. He received some more chicken, which he ate with a look on his face that said, 'it'll do for now'.

Alfred glanced at the clock as he booted up his laptop. 9:30. He reasoned that most vets would probably be open by 10, but he had no idea where the nearest one to him was. So off to the internet.

Within minutes, he found someone not ten minutes away on foot. "Dr. Arthur Kirkland, hmm? What do you think, buddy?" he asked the cat. He was ignored. "Him it is, then."

Then, he faced a slight dilemma. He didn't have a cat carrier or a leash, so he wasn't sure exactly how to transport the cat to the vet's. In the end, he simply carried the cat like he had the previous night.

The vet's office was a small white building, located conveniently right next to a pet supplies store. There were three cars in the parking lot before it, so Alfred figured it wasn't that crowded. He was right.

The waiting room was empty, and the secretary looked as if she was playing a game. The only other living thing was a fat white cat asleep on the desk. A bell above the door tinkled as the American walked in. The cat opened his eyes to reveal bright blue orbs and stretched. There was a ring of fluffy brown fur around its neck, something that Alfred found weird, but cool.

"Hi there. Can I help you?" the secretary asked, looking up from her computer.

"Yeah. I found this cat yesterday, and I want to get him checked up. If he's sick or something."

"Are you going to keep him?"

"Yup!" Alfred said brightly, and scratched Spitfire's ears again.

The secretary looked a bit surprised, but she nodded. "Okay then. Dr. Kirkland is currently busy with another patient, but he should be out to see you soon. I'll need your name."

"Alfred F. Jones."

"Take a seat, Mr. Jones."

Alfred nodded and plopped down on one of the chairs, moving Spitfire from his jacket to his lap. The other cat perked up at this and slowly wandered over. Spitfire had closed his eyes, so therefore didn't notice until the white cat was beside him and yowled loudly.

Even Alfred was surprised at the amount of noise the cat was able to produce. Spitfire jumped up, fur fluffed out and claws digging into Alfred's thighs. Alfred winced, but then Spitfire recovered and the claws retracted. The orange and white cat instead glared at the fat one.

But the white cat was undeterred and nuzzled forward curiously. Spitfire hissed at it, but was ignored. Pretty soon Alfred had two cats in his lap, neither one of which would settle down. The American tried shoving one, then both of them off, but they refused to leave. The fat one let out another loud yowl and half-climbed up Alfred's shirt. Upon closer inspection, Alfred discovered the blue of the cat's eyes were an almost identical shade as his own.

After a while he gave up and just let the cats sit there. Spitfire finally settled down, and they shared the task of making Alfred's legs go numb.

A little girl and her mother suddenly came through, heading outside. She had a small kitten in her arms and looked very happy. Alfred smiled at her, and she smiled back before she left.

"Hurricane, you bloody fat arse, what are you doing?"

Alfred glanced to where the girl had come from to see a short blond man standing in the doorway, green eyes narrowed and focused on the white cat. Hurricane mrowed in response, looking pleased.

"Hurricane?" Alfred asked, his heart jumping a bit when the man focused on him.

"World War II fighter plane. Plus, he's exceedingly large and destructive." the man replied briskly, his British accent highly prominent. "Apologies for him. Here, I'll get him off." He strode over and picked the cat up, setting him down on the floor.

"No problem, man. Are you Dr. Kirkland?"

"Yes, but if you are an adult, you may call me Arthur." Arthur stuck out his hand. "Mr. Jones?"

"Yeah, but you can call me Alfred." Alfred shook it and noticed no wedding band. That made him really happy, for some reason. He also noticed that Arthur Kirkland was pretty cute...aside from the massive eyebrows, but they worked for him. "And here's Spitfire." He presented the cat to him.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Spitfire?"

Alfred grinned crookedly. "World War II fighter plane. Plus, he's got a hell of a temper." He showed Arthur the scratches on his arms.

Arthur immediately turned serious. "Come on. We have to get him tested."

"Why?"

"If he has a disease, it could be transferred to you through those. Come along now." Arthur turned and marched off to the examination rooms.

Alfred followed and settled Spitfire down onto the metal table. Arthur thoroughly examined him and took blood samples. There was a bit of a commotion then, but the vet was skilled and no unnecessary blood was shed. While the blood was getting tested, he insisted on cleaning Alfred's scratches with a strong disinfectant.

"No harm in it." he explained when the American asked.

The test results came back soon after that, and Arthur went to go fetch them. "You're in luck. He's perfectly healthy. And what a good looking fellow he is." Arthur said, scratching the cat's ears.

"He's not the only one." Alfred replied, taking a chance. He looked intently at the Englishman's face, his eyes sharp.

Arthur paused in his motions and glanced up, his gaze meeting Alfred's. "Pardon?" His cheeks turned pink.

Alfred winked at him.

"O-Oh." Arthur quickly stepped away and cleared his throat. "Mr. Jones, I assume you're keeping him. Do you have the proper equipment?"

"Equipment?" Alfred's heart sank a bit as Arthur moved away, but he made sure to keep the emotions off his face.

"Yes. Cat carrier, scratching board, food, bowls, the like." Arthur explained. "Here, I'll write you a list." he added, starting on the list when Alfred shook his head no.

There was a slightly awkward silence as he wrote down the items he had named and then a few more.

"Hey listen, I'm sorry about before... I get if you're not into guys and all." Alfred began awkwardly.

Arthur stilled briefly again. "Not a problem." He seemed quite recovered by that time. "Wasn't expecting it is all." He gave him a small smile.

Alfred's eyes widened a bit. "Really? So you'll go out with me then?"

"That's- That's quite sudden..." Arthur half-muttered, and then his eyes snapped to Alfred's face. "How old are you, even?"

"Twenty. Almost twenty-one. Why?"

"I'm twenty-four." Arthur told him, raising an eyebrow.

"And? S'that supposed to scare me away? Older men are cool." Alfred moved closer to him. "Pleeeeaaase?"

"Pleading won't get you anywhere." Arthur said flatly. "You sound like a child."

Alfred pouted slightly. "I can be serious." he promised.

"Well..." Arthur thought for a moment and looked him over critically.

At first, Alfred squirmed under that gaze, but then straightened out and looked openly back at him, trying to communicate with his eyes how badly he wanted to be given a chance. The American normally didn't believe in love at first sight, but there was definitely a certain attraction there.

"Alright, alright." Arthur finally said. "I can check when I'm free-"

"Thank you!" Alfred couldn't help interrupting. His shoulders went slack with relief, and there was a blinding smile on his face. He wanted to hug the man before him with happiness, but felt that that would be taking it too far. Especially since they'd just met.

"W-Well..." Arthur trailed off with a blush, smiling a bit in response and nodding. He leaned over the list and added his phone number to the bottom of it. "Here you go. They should have everything next door. Call me in the evening, and we can set something up."

"Okay. So that's it? He's all good?"

"Yes. He's completely healthy, and you can have him neutered, if you so desire, some other time. My secretary will take care of the paperwork up front." Arthur said, nodding a bit awkwardly. "I'll erm, see you around, then."

"See ya, Artie!" Alfred picked up Spitfire and flashed Arthur another brilliant smile before leaving.

The paperwork didn't take long at all, and surprisingly, neither did the shopping. Alfred could barely settle down all day, his stomach buzzing with excitement about hat evening. Finally, the time arrived.

"Oh, hey Arthur. It's Alfred. So when are you free...?"

* * *

Alfred woke up early, which was a small miracle. He glanced down and smiled softly at the sight of Arthur next to him in bed, one of the Englishman's arms across his stomach. There were faint dark circles under Arthur's eyes, but that was normal since he worked so hard.

A few moments later, the alarm clock started screeching and Arthur opened his eyes. "Good morning." he murmured as he lifted a hand to shut the alarm off.

"Mornin'." Alfred replied. He pouted a bit, mourning the loss of the arm across him. Once there was silence in the room again, he pulled Arthur closer. They'd been living together for over three months now, and Alfred never tired of waking up next to the vet.

"Alfred, let me go please. I have work, and you need to feed the cats."

Almost as if to reinsure Arthur's words, Hurricane and Spitfire leapt up onto the bed, settling down right next to the men.

"Work can go screw off, an' the cats can wait." Alfred muttered sleepily.

"Alfred-"

"Call in sick. I wanna cuddle with you."

"Alfred I-"

"Seriously. You haven't had a day off since you moved in. You need a rest." Alfred shoved his nose into the crook between Arthur's neck and shoulder and tightened his grip.

Arthur stayed silent for a while. "I suppose one day off won't cause the end of the world." he finally said. "Williams can hold off on his own for today. Hand me my phone."

Alfred grinned as he passed over the device. A few minutes later, the two of them were right back to just holding each other and cuddling. Francis had been wrong. Spitfire was the most beautiful cat Alfred had ever seen, because he led the American to Arthur.

* * *

**A/N**: Leave feedback in reviews if you so desire.


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